


Being Better (Getting Worse)

by GinnyBloomPotter



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Abuse, Drug Addict Klaus Hargreeves, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Exhaustion, Fever, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Gen, Good Sibling Allison Hargreeves, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Good Sibling Luther Hargreeves, Good Sibling Number Six | Ben Hargreeves, Good Sibling Vanya Hargreeves, Headaches & Migraines, Homeless Klaus Hargreeves, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Jury's still out on that, Maybe - Freeform, Pre-Canon, Protective Allison Hargreeves, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Protective Luther Hargreeves, Protective Number Six | Ben Hargreeves, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Recreational Drug Use, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sick Character, Sick Vanya Hargreeves, Sickfic, Therapy, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vanya Hargreeves-centric, Vomiting, am i upset about it?, did i tag every single thing i could think of?, idk - Freeform, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyBloomPotter/pseuds/GinnyBloomPotter
Summary: In which the book was a therapy assignment and Vanya has never taken care of herself except when she wrote it.ORThere aren't enough Vanya sick fics and if I have to almost single handedly fill that void myself, I will.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, The Hargreeves Family, Vanya Hargreeves & Everyone
Comments: 76
Kudos: 166





	1. It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. It's me again. Back on my bullshit and making Vanya a better person than she was in canon. Is she maybe OOC? Who's to say? (Me. I'm to say. She probably is. But I'm having fun anyway.)
> 
> I started this MONTHS ago. EONS ago. July 2019 ago. But I wanted to finish Ask Yourself first and then I wanted to finish the story before I started posting it and then I got stuck in a rut and lost all inspiration for the story. I have a few chapters already written though, and I wanted to start posting it in the hopes that it would convince me to finally finish it so here we are. 
> 
> Happy Purim y'all! Enjoy!

**Sunday, 7:30 pm**   
_ Vanya _

She hated to admit it, but her therapist had been right. She really did feel better now that she’d been able to be as mean as possible about her siblings in a safe space.

It wasn’t really that she hated them. She didn’t. And she knew, logically, that they were abused like she was, even if it wasn’t really  _ the same _ and that they’d suffered a lot.

But she needed it. She needed to write it because she needed to feel like she was valid, at least a little bit. She needed it because she couldn’t manage to talk about it out loud without constantly making excuses about their dad and she needed to hold them accountable, just a little bit, for their part in making her feel like a useless, worthless, piece of shit. 

And yet, she was still all too aware of its presence in her bag, weighing her down as she walked home and reminding her that it needed to be hidden in the far recesses of one of her drawers as soon as possible. Or locked in a safe deposit box, maybe? Klaus did crash with her randomly, and he was a massive snoop. She didn’t want him to ever find it and get the wrong idea. 

Her heart felt lighter though, now that the meanest parts of her weren’t just cooped up inside herself. 

Distracted as she was by her musings, she didn’t notice the collision path she was on until familiar hands were reaching out to catch her before she could fall to the ground. She looked up at her brother’s face and grinned.

“Klaus!” She leaned in to give him a hug, one he returned, albeit a bit stiffly.

“Hi, Vanya.” He sounded awkward, and not as pleased to see her as she was to see him. Used to it, she brushed it off.

“How are you doing?” She questioned, and he shrugged. 

“Same old. You know the drill.” He turned a bit and shot a glare off at something she couldn’t see next to him. “Shut up!” he hissed. 

This, she was also used to. 

“Are you-- where are you staying right now?”

“I’ve got a place. New girlfriend; she’s pretty cool about me staying over.”

She felt like he was lying, but she didn’t have enough information to dispute it, so she didn’t try. 

“Good. I’m happy you’re… well, anyway…”

He winced and furrowed his brow. “Listen, Van. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I need to--”

“Oh, right! Of course. Don’t want to keep you. You, uh… you should come over sometime. I’ll make mac & cheese and we can…”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good. I’ll… I’ll see you ‘round, Van. Love you, sis!” He hugged her again quickly, still stiff, then stepped around her and kept walking. She didn’t turn around to watch him leave.

It hurt too much. 

**Sunday, 7:45 pm**   
_ Klaus _

The yellow paper of the manilla envelope crackled in his hands as Klaus hurried away from his sister.

Ben glared at him as he followed. 

“I can’t believe you would steal from Vanya like that.” 

“Maybe it’s money!” Klaus defended. He’d been quick to take it when he saw it sticking out of her bag, because duh, he needed the cash, and what else do you keep in a manilla envelope, but a part of him felt bad, brushing off Vanya the way he had and then stealing from her. Although, really, she should have noticed.

“Yeah.  _ Her _ money. That she has a right not to have stolen from her.”

“Chill out, Ben. She’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t about that. And also, now that we’re starting, why did you lie to her about having a place to stay? The dumpster doesn’t cou--”

“I’m not taking handouts, Ben! One of these days, she’s gonna stop being so open to me staying over--”

“That’s not going to happen. You know it won’t happen. She’s always been lonely and wanted company, especially if that company was one of us.”

“Shut your piehole, Ben!”

“And you won’t take handouts, but it’s fine if you stole it? What? Does consent spoil it for you?”

“And don’t talk to me about consent!” 

Ben looked guilty at that, but he didn’t back down.

“She’s your sister, Klaus. And you know her. She’d be happy to help you if you just asked.”

He tensed. He couldn’t figure out why he was so hesitant to let her help him, to stay by her apartment or let her make him dinner-- she’s been pretty obvious about being happier when she knows he safe and taken care of. But something in him just kept balking at the idea, and he usually listened to those instincts of his. It was a voice that sounded irritatingly familiar, but he was  _ just _ unable to place, a voice that kept telling him he needed to leave Vanya alone, that she wasn’t part of the team--

Okay, so maybe he could place it. But there was no way he’d ever admit to listening to his father’s influences.

He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Vanya was no longer in his vicinity, then bent the metal clasp and slid the flap free of it. He ignored Ben’s frustrated groan and the way he threw his head back and shook it at the sky, which was turning quite a dark shade of gray and rumbling threateningly. He probably should’ve let himself stay at Vanya’s. It was better than being out in the rain. Ah well. Too late now. 

The manilla envelope didn’t have any money in it. All it had was a stack of papers. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Well, that was boring.”

“So, can we go give this back to her now? She probably needs those for something. Like… I don’t know, maybe it’s a contract or--”

Klaus pinched his eyebrows together. “Well, only one way to find out.”

And he slid the stack from the envelope. 

There was no title on the page, and the writing itself was evenly typed and split into paragraphs. His eyes skimmed the page. One phrase jumped out at him. 

_ If you’re raised to believe nothing about you is special, if the benchmark is extraordinary, what do you do if you’re not? _

Confused, he lifted his eyes back to the beginning of the page and started reading from there. He stopped at the end of the paragraph and sent a look at Ben, who was resolutely refusing to meet his gaze. 

“I think Vanya wrote a book. About us.”

**Sunday, 7:58 pm**   
_ Vanya _

She hated walking into the empty apartment. She hated living alone. It always felt cold and stale and too too still, like no one had lived there in weeks, even though she’d just been there that morning. She lived like a ghost in her own home. 

Maybe that had something to do with why Klaus seemed intent on ignoring her. 

She wished that he’d stay. She knew he needed a place, knew where he slept most nights, and she wanted him to be safe. To be warm and dry and have food to eat, and she knew she could barely afford to pay rent and buy food for one, not with the cost of therapy, but she’d gladly stop going if it meant Klaus would be around with her. 

Okay, so maybe it was a selfish desire. It wasn’t just that she wanted him safe but she also didn’t want to be alone. She was so, so alone. 

She dropped her bag onto the couch and headed for the kitchen. She knew she didn’t have much food, that she’d needed to go shopping for a little while, but a part of her still hoped that when she’d open the fridge, she’d somehow, miraculously, find that some kind and generous spirit or fairy or something had visited while she was out and refilled her shelves. 

Of course, that hadn’t happened. 

She had about a quarter of a milk carton left, but it was spoiled. There was a bowl’s worth of stale rice krispies left in the box, and she found two pickles, a single frozen waffle, and a container of breadcrumbs she’d bought for a fried chicken recipe she’d wanted to try a few months earlier and hadn’t opened since. 

She made dinner of the dry, stale cereal and one of the pickles, and followed it up with the waffle once it finished in the toaster. 

She really should go shopping. 

But that meant walking to the grocery store, which was half a mile away, and carrying all of the groceries back with her, and that also meant spending money. There was a convenience store a few blocks closer, but it didn’t stock much, she’d still have to walk home, they only took cash at the moment, and everything was more expensive, which actually made the whole “spending money” part of the problem worse. 

And it wasn’t like she didn’t make a decent salary at the orchestra. Actually, it paid pretty well, all things considered. And she charged $20 per half hour for her lessons, which brought in a good amount of money itself. But rent wasn’t cheap, and neither were all of her bills. Insurance, too, was a bitch to cover, and her coverage didn’t extend to psychiatric help unless it was in-patient. All of this meant cutting corners on grocery purchases in order to save enough money each month to put away in case of emergencies. 

Should she even still be saving if she was living paycheck to paycheck like this? Could she afford it? What even counted as an emergency, anyway? Would she know it when it came up?

Groceries would be a job for tomorrow, she decided, the long day making her limbs feel heavy. She collapsed onto the couch and, upon spotting her bag beside her, decided to put away the pages she’d written and then get to bed.

Only the envelope wasn’t in her bag. It wasn’t on the floor. It wasn’t on the couch. 

_ Okay, Vanya. Calm down. It probably just fell out of your bag somewhere.  _

She’d find it. She’d go out and look, right that minute. Just in case someone came across it.

No one was allowed to read it.

Adrenaline and anxiety sent her flying off of her sofa and out the door, barely remembering to grab her keys on the way out the door. 

**Sunday, 8:15 pm**   
_ Klaus _

If he was at all religious, Klaus might say that 24 hour diners were a godsend. As it was, he thanked whoever might be listening for Griddy’s.

Agnes was a sweetheart of a woman, she really was. You weren’t  _ supposed _ to camp out by the tables after you were done eating, but she remembered Klaus from when he used to sneak over with his siblings in the middle of the night and eat donuts until they puked, and she liked him and his easy smile and his casual charm, and so if he went in and bought something on nights when it was particularly nasty out, she’d overlook how long he stayed after he finished eating, as long as his booth wasn’t needed. And if he fell asleep while he sat there, well, who could really prove that?

He had just enough money to buy himself a donut. Actually, he was a nickel short, but Agnes winked and dropped a nickel from her own pocket into the till before handing him a chocolate frosted on a plate and shooing him off to his usual table in the corner of the currently empty diner. 

He beamed at her. “Danke,” he thanked, and he hustled over to stretch out over the cushioned booth. 

He pulled the manilla envelope out from where he’d hid it under his shirt to protect it from the rain. The envelope itself was slightly damp but the papers were still dry, and he eagerly slid them from their packet and proceeded to forget about his donut as he began scanning the pages eagerly. 

For all of Ben’s token protesting, he was quick to look over his shoulder, and coughed impatiently every time it took Klaus too long to reach the end of the page. To his credit, Klaus wasn’t sure he’d ever read anything so quickly before. By dawn, he’d finished it all. 

His eyes itched with exhaustion, but he still looked at Ben with them wide open. 

“Holy shit, are we assholes? I mean, we are assholes. Obviously. But like, this much?”

“Yes,” Ben admitted decisively. “Or did you forget that you literally stole this out of her bag because you thought it had money in it?”

He glared at his brother, then shook his head. 

“I mean, she was kind of awful too, though. Some of the things she said… I mean, she was hardly being fair. She almost completely ignored that Dad was shitty to us too, and please, does she really think that her exclusion was worse than all that fucking  _ training? _ ”

“Well, it’s certainly not fun,” Ben defended. “And he didn’t just ignore her-- he isolated her. What was it that she wrote? That she didn’t leave the grounds at all from fifteen to eighteen? Three entire fucking years?”

“She didn’t train until she couldn’t move!”

“No, but he hurt her in a lot of other ways. Including physically. And are you really going to start playing the abuse olympics right now?”

“My point being that a lot of this shit she wrote… She paints us like happy little monkeys, following along in Daddy’s footsteps, as if we didn’t deal with all of his shit too. I mean, what the fuck?”

“I don’t-- I know, okay? I know. It’s fucked up. I’m just saying, there’s probably more to the story than what we just read.”

“...The others have to read it.”

“Klaus…”


	2. Random and Not So Random Acts of Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya gets groceries, and then gets paid a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter two! Hope y'all enjoy!

**Monday, 5:59 am**   
_ Vanya _

The rain finally cleared up as the new day dawned. Exhausted and soaked and unsuccessful, Vanya trudged back into her building under the judgmental light of the early morning sun. She’d been out all night searching and had not only come up empty-handed, but hadn’t even remembered to get groceries while she’d been out. 

She didn’t have the energy to actually go to the grocery store, and the lack of food was desperate, and so she ran upstairs to find cash so she could head to the convenience store. She could only find fifteen dollars, and she sighed. It would have to get enough to tide her over for the next couple of days. 

Four dollars for a box of rice krispies, plus another three dollars for half a gallon of milk, plus four dollars for a box of pasta, and another 3 dollars for cheese slices. Together, it left her just a quarter short of enough money, after tax. The cashier was unsympathetic, and Vanya scrambled to figure out what she could trade out or switch to get the total down. 

There was an impatient person sniffling behind her with a tight grip on a cup of coffee. She was about to just ditch the cheese and deal without it when they coughed harshly and stepped around her, placing a quarter down on the counter with a gruff “Here,” and a muttered “God’s fucking sake…”

She scrambled, then, to try and thank them as she gathered the shopping bags, but they waved her off with an eye roll. “Just go home and get some fucking sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

She blushed heavily and nodded, leaving the store with shame and embarrassment all over her face, and heading home. 

She barely remembered to put the milk and cheese into the fridge before she collapsed into bed.

At this point, she was just hoping that the rain had destroyed everything enough for  _ it _ to be unreadable. 

Stop. She couldn’t think about that. 

She had to call in “sick” to rehearsal, and she was privately grateful for the fact that she never really got sick, because that meant that she hadn’t used many sick days, and so the person answered the phone did not ask any questions and just told her that her “sick” status would be assumed until the next time she showed up for rehearsal, or for the next four days, at which point she’d have to call in sick again or risk losing her position in the orchestra. 

She then sent out a mass email to her students to cancel her lessons for the day. 

Then, she finally let herself pass out. 

**Wednesday, 11:00 am**   
_ Diego _

Being faced with a family you were trying your damnedest to forget the existence of was not Diego’s idea of a good morning. 

The fact that it had been Klaus who had gathered Allison and Luther and brought them to his doorstep made him all the more wary.

Then, Klaus shoved a manilla envelope into his hands, pushed past him into his little apartment and proclaimed loudly, “Look what Vanya wrote about us!” And Diego was suddenly distracted by two things. 

First, Vanya hadn’t been in the group by his door, and he hadn’t realized. Second,  _ she wrote about them. _

And none of what she’d written had been at all kind. 

To be fair, considering he’d  _ completely forgotten she existed,  _ it wasn’t completely undeserved. But that didn’t make it any more comforting to read any of the crap she’d put down in those pages, nor did it mean he’d  _ admit  _ to any fault. 

“Where did you get this?” Allison asked as she pored over the section she’d been handed when they’d divided the pages amongst themselves. 

Klaus was suspiciously quiet at that, and was glaring at the empty air next to him. 

“...Klaus? What did you do?” Luther asked dangerously. 

He shifted uncomfortably but still didn’t respond.

“Did you steal this?” Diego asked, kind of impressed, but more annoyed. 

“I thought it had money in it!” he defended, but that didn’t impress anyone.

“I think that might make that worse,” Allison muttered. 

He quickly tuned them out, reabsorbed by the next page. 

And… fuck. It hurt.

_ I had tried for a long time to reach out to them. After we all moved out, I thought that maybe being away from Dad’s influence would change things. It didn’t. And part of me hates them for that. Hates them for the phone calls they never answered or returned. Hates them for the dinner invitations left unacknowledged. Hates them for listening to the man I knew they all hated, but only when it came to me.  _

_ Because it was awful as a teen. On the day I moved out, I realized that I hadn’t actually been on the outside of the front door since I was fifteen, at the most recent. I wasn’t allowed to leave the premises ever, not unless I was accompanying them on some mission or another, and Dad stopped letting me come with them a few months before Ben died. So I didn’t know anyone-- didn’t speak to anyone-- outside of the Academy. I never learned how to talk to people, how to make friends, be a person. And then my experiences with my siblings were limited. Dad didn’t let them talk to me a lot, and even on the days when he didn’t particularly care, they didn’t exactly seek me out. There were stretches of days where the only people I’d be able to talk to were Mom and Pogo, both of whom were busy or unable to converse with me the way I needed. _

_ So I never learned how to be a person. When I left home, I didn’t get to talk to anyone. I couldn’t figure out how to relate to the other people in the orchestra. I still don’t know how to make casual conversation. All I could possibly have is my siblings, and they made it pretty clear that they don’t give a crap about whether or not I’m there. I hate to say that they’re selfish, or oblivious, but god, that’s exactly what they are, isn’t it? Self-absorbed and narcissistic and completely oblivious, and so I slowly die and rot and not one notices or cares. _

_ How do you even know that you’re really there when it’s so easy for people to forget you exist? Even when you’re standing right in front of them? _

_ Maybe that’s what I'm most afraid of about dying. That I won’t realize I’m dead because my life as a ghost is exactly the same as my life was while I lived. _

**Wednesday, 6:07 pm**   
_ Vanya _

She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep for when she woke up, startled, to insistent knocking at her door. She did know that she’d spent the last three days at home, catching up on sleep on Monday, then too exhausted to leave on Tuesday and for most of that day.

Heart pounding from the adrenaline of the sudden wake up, and feeling headache-y and nauseated from exhaustion, Vanya ran for the door, still tangled in her blanket. 

Her siblings stood on the other side of the door. She stared, uncomprehending. 

Diego shoved a manilla envelope at her chest. 

“What the fuck is this?”

She fumbled to grasp at it around fistfulls of her blanket. Her fingers were clumsy as she fiddled with the clasp and opened the envelope, sliding a familiar stack of papers out.

It took her a minute to process what she was seeing.

“Where did you get this?” she exclaimed, moving back to usher them into the apartment. They moved past her with grim, tense expressions, Allison and Luther looking around curiously. 

“Oh, you… dropped… it…” Klaus said slowly. “Remember, when I bumped into you a couple of days ago?”

“Huh… I… yeah, I remember. I didn’t think it dropped.” If she was more awake, she probably would’ve been suspicious. As it was, something seemed off. “I spent all night that night looking for it. Couldn’t let you… didn’t want you guys to read it.” Her tongue was clumsy and her lips were loose, spilling and slurring words she’d usually never dream of sharing. 

“I can see why,” Allison grumbled, taking a careful seat on the armchair. Vanya took her cue and curled herself into one corner of the couch, wrapping the blanket more securely around her shoulders and tucking the envelope with the pages protectively to her chest. 

Klaus, boundary-less as he was, slipped off his shoes and spread himself out over the rest of the couch, sliding his socked feet into the empty space left by Vanya’s drawn-up knees. Diego and Luther exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Luther perched himself precariously on the edge of one of the dining room chairs while Diego stood stiffly in front of the TV.

“Then why’d you write it?” Allison continued once everyone had taken their places. “I mean that stuff--”

“Therapy,” Vanya interrupted. “It was a therapy assignment. My therapist- she noticed I tended to mince my words, even when I was talking to her, and I kept making excuses for everyone else and-- well, it wasn’t really conducive to psychoanalyzation. I wasn’t… I wasn’t completely honest with her about everything. So she told me to write down everything. Every nasty thought, every secret resentment, and instead of justifying everything, leave no room for excuses. So I… it’s nasty and awful, I know. And you weren’t supposed to read it. Ever. It was just supposed to be for me. I needed… I  _ had  _ to write it, to make sense of a lot of things, but you weren’t supposed to see it. No one was supposed to see it, except me and Dr. Parker.”

“So then this... “ Luther began, then paused. “This is really what you think of us?”

“No!” she defended immediately. “Luther, I… mostly, no. It’s not-- I know it’s not fair. And there’s so much more to the story than that. I know that. I know-- I just had to write it. I had to-- I’m sorry, okay? But you weren’t supposed to see it! And I hate that you have! Because you shouldn’t have to think-- listen, I know, okay? I know that you guys have your own lives and your own worries, and even when we were kids you were dealing with your own shit. This is just… this was just for me. Just for me.” Her voice lost power the longer she spoke. By the time she was finished, she was whispering hoarsely. Her throat hurt.

She sighed heavily and let her head fall backwards to be supported by the back of the couch. Her eyes fluttered closed, too tired to really keep them open. It was weirdly hot under her blanket, but the icy numbness in her feet kept her from letting it fall away. Her skin tingled and prickled when she left it behind anyway, and she shifted uncomfortably against the ache in her thighs. 

She really needed to go back to sleep. Exhaustion had always affected her strangely, left her achy and upset and too sensitive to temperature. The nausea got so bad sometimes that she vomited. Usually, she could push through it. This week, she couldn’t.

No one spoke for a little while. She didn’t realize she was falling asleep until a throat-clearing cough from Diego jerked her awake, heart pounding fast in her chest. She gulped against the feeling and opened her eyes too wide, lifting her head to look at him. 

Once he had her attention, he shrugged. “Whatever, I guess. It was fucked up, but if what you said is true--” 

“It is.”

“Well, then. That answers that. Burn that thing.” He turned to leave, but Allison reached up a hand to stop him as he passed. He scowled and took a seat on the arm of the chair, arms crossed petulantly. 

“We owe you an apology, then,” Allison admitted. “We haven’t paid as much attention as we maybe should have. We could, at the very least, have returned your phone calls. There’s no excuse for not doing at least that much.”

Vanya shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” she slurred out. She shook her head a couple of times to clear the tired fog, and only succeeded in making her head hurt more. She winced and tried not to cry out. 

“Can we just… Ca’ we do this tomorrow?” she mumbled, and she must have been unintelligible, because no one moved, just gave her confused, concerned looks. 

“Are you okay, Van?” Klaus asked, and she nodded. 

“Jus’ tired.” She lifted a hand to rub at her face, but when goosebumps erupted over her sweatshirt-sleeve covered arm, she buried it back under the blanket. 

Allison stood, Diego and Luther following suit. 

“That’s fine,” her sister said. “I’m going back to LA in a couple of days. Let’s get together sometime before that, okay?”

Vanya nodded. “Kay.” She stood as well, wincing as pain shot through her legs, and dropped the envelope onto the coffee table. She looked down at Klaus.

“You stayin’?”

He gave a wide grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “You’ve got a comfy couch.”

She nodded. “Well, you know where the pillows ‘n stuff is. Dunno what food I have, but you can eat wha’ever you c’n find. Night.”

She walked her other siblings to the door. Looking stiff and hesitant, Allison pulled her into an awkward hug, and then quickly jerked away, looking worried. “Are you sure you’re just tired?” she asked, and Vanya nodded, confused. “Really? Because you feel hot.” She placed the back of her hand against Vanya’s forehead. “Like, really hot.”

Vanya shrugged her hand off. “‘M fine. Just b’n under the blanket. ‘N I get hot when I’m too tired.”

Diego was watching with angry concern in his eyes. “Or maybe you’re sick.”

“I don’ really get sick.”

She heard a rustling by the couch and turned around to see Klaus looking at her with a disbelieving look over the back of it. “Everyone gets sick, Van.”

She shrugged. “Well if I have, I haven’t noticed.”

Luther moved out from behind Allison and put his hand on her cheek. “Allison’s right. That feels like a fever.”

Klaus stood up. “I’m going to go find a thermometer.”

Allison, meanwhile, ushered her back to the couch. “Sit down. Diego, can you find a washcloth? Luther, get a bowl and fill it with cool water.”

Vanya shook her head at the treatment. “I just need to sleep, Allison.”

“And you will. After we make sure you’re okay.”

“I am okay. I’m always okay.”

Allison glanced at the envelope on the coffee table, then back at Vanya. “We all know now that that’s a lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Me? Trying to make the Hargreeves function as a family? ...Shocking... 
> 
> LISTEN I'M JUST A SLUT FOR SICK FICS OKAY????
> 
> Also, Vanya's not stupid, I promise. She's just... damaged. They all are. 
> 
> Are you liking the way this is going? Please be sure to let me know!


	3. Blanket Nests and Memory Pests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People get very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: If you keep posting at this rate, you are going to run out of content before you've finishedworking on the next chapter andthings are going to get inconsistent
> 
> Also Me: POST POST POST POST POST POST POST

**Wednesday, 6:45 pm**   
_ Klaus _

Ben followed Klaus into the bathroom. 

“Do you think she even had a thermometer?” he asked. Klaus chuckled. 

“Everyone owns a thermometer, Ben.”

“Except she’s never thought she’s been sick before. So why would she have one?”

Klaus shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet. Both of them were struck by how empty it was. 

The top shelf had a stack of gauze, a box of bandaids, a roll of medical tape, and a tube of neosporin. The next had two spare toothbrushes, still in their boxes, an unused tube of toothpaste, unopened dental floss, and a small, full bottle of mouthwash. The next shelf had a tub of Aquaphor, a jar of cotton swabs, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The bottom shelf contained only a very dusty looking thermometer in a plastic case. 

Klaus reached out to grab it and immediately turned on the hot water in the sink, running the plastic case under it and scrubbing at it. 

“Why doesn’t she have any drugs?” Klaus wondered aloud, and he was quick to roll his eyes when Ben sent him a glare. “Not like that. I just meant that there aren’t any painkillers. No aspirin, no ibuprofen, no acetaminophen, no benadryl… there aren’t even any expired cough drops. Nothing prescription, nothing over-the-counter, just… nothing.”

“She said she hasn’t been sick. Maybe she just hasn’t thought she needed it?”

“She never had a headache? A little tickle in the back of her throat? A sore muscle? Nothing?”

Ben shrugged. “You know, the more I’m spending time with her, the more concerned I’m getting,” he told Klaus. “Does she take care of herself? Like at all?”

Klaus nodded his head at the still-open medicine cabinet, then at the shower stall and the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel inside. “Hygienically, she seems to. She brushes and flosses at least, which is more than I can say for myself.”

“It’s like she only treats what she can see,” Ben remarked, which gave Klaus pause. 

Because he’d peeked inside her head. He’d read what she’d written. He knew, at least a little, how she thought. And if he’d learned anything about her, it was that treating only what she could see was probably exactly what she did. Why, after all, would you treat something that you had no evidence was really happening.

Once the thermometer had been thoroughly de-dustified, Klaus rejoined his siblings in the living room, Ben on his heels. 

Allison had forced Vanya to retake her vacated spot on the couch, and she clutched a damp washcloth that she was trying to make Vanya let her put on her face. Diego and Luther were standing behind her like the world’s shittiest bodyguards, the former with his jaw tense and the latter looking like a worried mess. 

“Thermometer!” Klaus declared triumphantly as he approached. “I don’t know if it works, but it exists! Where did you get it anyway? I thought you said you didn’t get sick?”

“Got a nasty slice on my leg a few years ago. Had to go to the clinic to get it treated. They were giving them out, free, and I didn’t see a reason not to take one.”

“Have you used it all since you got it?” Luther asked, and before Vanya responded, Klaus laughed. 

“You kidding? This thing was coated in dust when I found it.”

Diego immediately lunged and grabbed it out of his hand, then carted it to the kitchen, where he proceeded to coat the device in dish soap and scrub at it. 

“I washed it,” Klaus protested indignantly, and Diego shrugged. 

“Well, now it’ll have been washed twice.” 

Finally, it seemed to pass Diego’s standards, because he brought it back over to the couch and handed it to Allison, who pushed the button and held it out for Vanya. “Under your tongue,” Allison told her, and, rolling her eyes, Vanya opened her mouth and lifted her tongue to let Allison slip it in. 

Klaus saw a shift in her blankets, and thought that Vanya might be trying to free her hand, but Allison noticed and, using the hand that wasn’t still supporting the thermometer, patted at the moving fold. “Stop. I’ve got it.”

A confused crease appeared between her brows. She opened her mouth, presumably to ask a question, but was chastised quickly by Allison and so she closed it again, pouting a little miserably, the crease not disappearing. 

Huh. Vanya was cuter than he remembered. 

“God, she looks so sick,” Ben muttered, and now that he mentioned it, Klaus could see it. She was pale, and there was a fevered flush over her cheeks. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, which were dull and pained. When he looked even closer, he could see the way her skin pulled by her hairline, the way her ears drew back with the tenseness that she was radiating. From pain, maybe?

“Are you in pain?” Klaus asked, and she shrugged noncommittally. That was a yes, then. “I didn’t see any painkillers in your medicine cabinet-- do you keep them somewhere else?” He suspected that the answer was no, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. 

The thermometer beeped, and Allison removed it and gave Vanya a chance to respond. 

“I don’t have any,” she said. “Dad never let me take them; apparently, they interfere with my medication.”

Luther’s expression became even more concerned. “You’ve never taken painkillers?”

Vanya shrugged. “I tried asking Mom once, when we were kids. I had a headache and wanted it to go away. She told me to ask Dad, and when I did, he told me I shouldn’t.”

That didn’t make much sense to Klaus. What kind of basic, over-the-counter painkiller interfered with anxiety meds? He didn’t say anything, though. 

“Well, fuck the medication,” Allison said. “You’ve got a fever of nearly 103 degrees. You need to take some sort of fever-reducer, before it gets even higher.”

Vanya shook her head. “That can’t be a fever. I’m not sick.”

“Vanya…”

“No. I can’t be sick. That doesn’t happen to me.”

“It did when we were four,” Ben recalled. Of course, she couldn’t hear him, but Klaus could and he sent him a look. Ben shrugged. “You don’t remember? Dad kept her under quarantine for a little while. I only remember because it was so weird. He’d never quarantine the rest of us when we got sick. Or at least, not like that, to the point where we’d disappear for a week.”

That did remind Klaus of when they were kids. It had been so long ago that he’d forgotten, but…

“You’ve gotten sick before,” he repeated Ben’s information to the room. “When we were kids, at least.” Although now that he thought about it, that was the only time he could remember Vanya getting sick. Unless he just hadn’t noticed. But he didn’t pay  _ that _ little attention to her, not while they were still living under the same roof. And everyone else, he could remember with the sniffles at least a couple of times, but Vanya, he couldn’t. At all. 

“Just the once,” Vanya said. “And I hardly remember that, it was so long ago. I didn’t get sick after that. Not once, not since we were… what four? Five? I’m telling you, it’s probably just that I’m tired and overheated from the blanket.”

“Why can’t you just admit you’re sick and let us move on?” Diego wanted to know, and she groaned and leaned back against the couch. 

“If I admit it, will you go away?”

“No,” Klaus told her. “We’re staying here and taking care of you.” 

Allison nodded her agreement, and Diego didn’t argue, but Luther looked uncomfortable.

“Okay, well, Luther will probably head back to Dad, but the rest of us are here. Besides, I’m sleeping on your couch, remember? I might as well do my part while I’m here.” 

Ben was looking proud, and if he weren’t a ghost, Klaus probably would have punched him. He’d already gotten a similar look when he’d first claimed to be staying over, presumably because he was glad Klaus was listening to him and keeping Vanya company (and keeping himself safe in the process). He didn’t like those looks. Those looks made him feel like he was usually a failure. 

He  _ was _ , but that didn’t give Ben the right to make him  _ feel _ that way. 

And then he noticed  _ Vanya’s _ face, and he kind of wanted to hit himself for avoiding her for so long. 

Because she looked so  _ confused.  _ Confused and disbelieving and like she was waiting for someone to yell PSYCH and laugh and run away. 

“But you don’t… I’m  _ fine.  _ Even if I am sick-- which I’m  _ not, _ by the way-- I’ll just… I mean, what’s the difference in treating myself when I’m sick and when I’m tired? Drink lots of water, get lots of sleep… I mean, that’s it, isn’t it? There’s nothing for you to take care of! And… I-- why would you want to?”

The other three in the room looked sad and uncomfortable, so he took it upon himself to fix things.

_ Stop it,  _ whispered his father’s voice in the back of his mind.  _ She’s not like you. She’ll never be like you. Stay away from Number Seven… _

He did what he should have done a long time ago and told that voice to fuck off.

He came and sat next to Vanya on the couch, pulling her burritoed body into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. 

“Because we may have been crap siblings in the past, but you’re still our sister, and we do still love you, and you shouldn’t have to suffer through being sick on your own. Trust me; it sucks balls.”

Vanya jerked and attempted to pull away. “When were you sick? Why didn’t you come over? Oh, Klaus… please tell me you didn’t sleep on the stree--”

“That is so not what this is about.” He hated that that was her instinct, that he could feel her burning up with fever and that he’d ditched and avoided her for so long and yet she was still more concerned with where he slept when he was sick than the fact that she  _ was  _ sick, right there and then. 

It didn’t help that her words had prompted an angry, concerned look from Diego, and  _ no. _ He was not dealing with Diego of all people, Diego who thought eating raw eggs was  _ okay _ and  _ healthy _ giving him a lecture about how he treated his own body. 

Besides, heroin was a great cough suppressant.

He clutched her more tightly and started rubbing a hand soothingly down the back of the sister in his arms, and though she tensed up at first, she started relaxing into it after about thirty seconds. Thirty more seconds, and she warily dropped her head onto his shoulder and started closing her eyes. Her breathing evened out after another thirty seconds, and then she was asleep, mouth wide open and exhaling little puffs of air against his neck. He didn’t stop the motion of his hand. He refused. 

Fuck his father, anyway.

**Wednesday, 7:03 pm** **  
** _ Allison _

So, sue her, but Allison had never held much affection for Vanya in the past. 

She was her sister, so obviously, there was some, but Vanya had always been quiet and shy and hid herself away, and Allison didn’t make much of a point to try and seek her out, preferring the company of Luther, who was exceptionally good at fulfilling her need for attention. And when their father had further perpetuated the divide, Allison didn’t think it was much of a loss. She felt bad, of course, but she thought that part of her resented how quickly Vanya and Five had become close, resented Vanya for choosing him over her, and so it was much easier for her to stop caring about her. 

And then, when they’d all left home, everyone seemed to understand the unspoken rule-- the “you remind me of my past so we won’t contact each other” rule-- except for Vanya, who insisted on trying to call every few weeks. Sometimes, she picked up. Usually, she didn’t. Hollywood was a scintillatingly sinful siren, and Allison was swift to succumb to its song, and even swifter to leave all the rest behind. Easiest to abandon was the sister she’s never particularly cared for to begin with. 

But when Klaus had called, she didn’t know what else to do but to come. Maybe it was the particular brand of attention Patrick had been lavishing her with since she’d found out she was pregnant just two weeks before. Maybe it was latent maternal instincts awakening from the pregnancy that she was using Vanya as an outlet for. Maybe it was just sheer curiosity. But it was dumb luck that she’d even picked up when he called, and dumber instinct that had told her to follow up. 

And now that she was being faced with Vanya…

God, she just wanted to  _ protect  _ her. 

The pages she’d written had been insulting, but she was big enough to admit that they weren’t inaccurate. And they had made her ache for her sister, ache for the pain she’d caused her. 

She hadn’t thought she was  _ that  _ much of a bitch. 

And that started that path. Then she was faced with an obviously ill sister, who still, even after all of these years, was just so  _ tiny _ and seemed so  _ weak. _ She just… She wanted to take care of her. 

Which was strange, because Vanya was not an infant; she was an adult exactly her age, and Allison had certainly never cared  _ before. _

It was probably the pregnancy hormones. 

She watched as Vanya fell asleep against Klaus, then turned to Luther to wordlessly ask him to carry her to her bed. He moved too slowly, however, and Diego was much quicker. He slid an arm beneath her legs, and the other behind her back, displacing Klaus’s hand, then lifted with barely a whisper of a grunt. Vanya stirred, but did not wake. 

“Christ, she’s light,” he commented in a harsh undertone. “Does she even eat? God!”

The mention of eating had Allison scrambling to stand and move to the kitchen. “Soup!” she proclaimed as she made to open the fridge. “We should make soup.”

Vanya didn’t have anything to make soup.

Vanya didn’t have much of anything, really. The fridge contained a mostly empty bottle of milk, three cheese slices, and a covered bowl that, upon further inspection, was revealed to contain half of a portion of mac and cheese. The cupboard had even less, just a mostly empty box of cereal and a hardly touched container of breadcrumbs. The freezer had two trays of ice and a tub of ice cream. What little was left in the tub was freezer-burnt and inedible. 

Luther came and looked over Allison’s shoulder as she stared at the contents of the fridge in dismay. 

“So, she doesn’t eat, does she?”

Allison turned and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “You! You still live at home!”

He looked confused. “Yes?” he said slowly.

“With Mom…”

“Uh huh…” 

“Go see if she’ll make soup for Vanya!” she commanded, and Luther’s face lit up. 

“Hey, yeah! That’s a great idea! Dad wouldn’t be thrilled though.”

“Then don’t tell Dad.”

“Right. Okay. Fine.” 

Diego returned from Vanya’s bedroom, arms empty, and Luther looked at him. “Can you give me a ride? Gonna go get Mom to make some soup for Vanya.”

Diego shrugged. Allison was surprised at his easy acquiescence, until she remembered Diego’s relationship with Mom, and figured that was probably at least 90% of why he agreed.

The two left, and Allison turned to her remaining brother. He wasn’t her first choice, but she wasn’t anticipating Luther taking Diego with him, and she wanted this done quickly. 

“Klaus, if I give you money, can you go get groceries so that she actually has food?”

His eyes lit up at the mention of money. 

“For Vanya,” she was quick to add. “Not for you, not for drugs, for Vanya. Our sister. Who is sick and, evidently, starving.”

He looked offended. “I know! What did you think I was gonna do? Take the money and run? Please, I’m not  _ that  _ desperate. Also, rude! How dare you think so lowly of me.”

“Can you really blame me?”

“Yes. Give me the fucking money.”

She handed him what she hoped was enough cash to get some basic food items, and before she could give him a list, he was gone. 

She decided to just try and trust him. She hoped she wouldn’t regret it. 

Once she was alone, she retrieved the washcloth and bowl from the coffee table and headed into Vanya’s room.

Diego wasn’t what Allison would call a careful person, but he’d obviously been very much so when putting Vanya down, because she was under her blankets instead of wrapped inside one of them. Even as she slept, there was a worried, pained crease between her eyebrows. She looked miserable and exhausted. It tugged at Allison’s heart in a way that she wasn’t quite familiar with.

She soaked the washcloth again and wrung it out, then placed it across Vanya’s forehead. Her sister sighed in her sleep and shifted, but again, did not wake. 

Maybe she should’ve gone shopping instead of Klaus. She’d wanted to be here in case Vanya woke up, so she could help and do whatever had to get done, but she felt so  _ useless. _

What did you do to take care of a sick person? Everything she’d ever seen told her “food and drink, medicine, rest, and hygiene” but Vanya seemed clean enough, she was currently asleep so Allison couldn’t start washing the sheets, there was no medicine in the place, and there was no food for her to make. 

She went back into the kitchen. She found a reusable water bottle in the cabinet with the mugs, and she filled it with tap water and some ice, then left it on the bedside table. She found an almost empty box of chamomile tea bags and a bottle of honey hiding in the back of that cabinet, and she took them out with a mug and left them on the counter top for later. She found a dusty tea kettle in another cabinet, and she took it to the sink and washed it out, then filled it and set it on the stove to boil. 

What the fuck else was she supposed to do? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do they underestimate Klaus or is he absolutely appropriately estimated? I mean he's very underestimated but does he also deserve it just a little bit? We'll see. He's a bit of an irresponsible trash baby but we love him. 
> 
> To be fair to Vanya's medicine cabinet, do people actually keep medicine in there except for like... 3 year old expired cough syrup, very dusty children's medicine, and benadryl? Like, I feel like the second you put actual medicine in the medicine cabinet, it expires and you can't take it any more. Like, nothing confuses me more than watching TV shows where people regularly take medicine and keep it in their medicine cabinet instead of their bedside table or in the kitchen or something. Like you know those bathroom camera shots where people are closing the mirror after taking out medicine? Like no. I don't think that happens in real life. I didn't think I'd end up going on a rant like this but here we go.
> 
> Diego is trying and very grumpy about it. Luther is trying but he's so dumb sometimes. Allison is trying but was raised to be very selfish so like it's very hard for her. Klaus is just... Klaus. Vanya just wants to be loved but also cannot handle being loved. I love her. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Give me feedback PLEASE!! Love y'all, until next time!


	4. Responsibility and Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus is Klaus and we love him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY AM I POSTING THIS THE NEXT CHAPTER ISN'T FINISHED YET?? AM I JUST STUPID?
> 
> Whatever, enjoy!

**Wednesday, 8:12 pm** **  
** _ Allison _

Klaus returned to Vanya’s apartment laden with shopping bags and a smile. Allison opened the door for him and he dumped the packages on the kitchen table. She immediately moved to sort through them. 

Except…

“Did you buy anything with any sort of nutritional content?” she was exasperated as she took three bags of gummy bears out of a bag. 

“Look!” he exclaimed, pointing at the package. “Made with real fruit! Besides, Vanya loves gummy bears.”

“Great,” Allison rolled her eyes, even as a small voice in the back of her head was thinking  _ does she? Really? How did you not know this?  _ “I’m sure she’ll appreciate that when she’s dying of malnutrition on top of the flu.”

“Is that what she has? The flu?”

Allison shrugged. “I have no idea. It was just the easiest way to describe it. But what else is it? Do people just… get fevers? Apropo of nothing?”

Klaus shook his head. “How should I know? Last time I was sick, it was because of week old sushi. I was throwing up for like three days. It was disgusting.”

Allison grimaced. “Thanks for that, Klaus. I definitely needed that image.”

She rooted through another bag and came up with cough drops, ginger-ale, and a bottle of Advil. Maybe he was actually being helpful?

The next bag had potato chips and chocolate and she lost all hope again. 

She finished up with the groceries, Klaus helping, and she lamented having not sent him with a list. In the end, the only helpful things had been the cough drops, Advil, and the ginger-ale. Otherwise, everything was junk food. 

She sent him an exasperated look. “Why didn’t you just wait for me to give you a list?”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “This is fine.”

“There’s no protein in here. No fruits, no vegetables--”

“Potatoes are a vegetable!”

“It doesn’t count when they’re deep fried and salted to high heaven. There’s nothing in here that she could make a meal out of.”

Klaus sent a look towards the empty air at his side. She didn’t want to ask what he was looking at. She didn’t want to know the answer.

Frustrated, she shook her head. “Forget it,” she muttered. “I’ll just send Diego out when he gets back.”

“Well why don’t you go?”

She blanched. Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad idea-- it would, at least, keep her from feeling too useless. But then again…

“Because I’m not leaving my sick sister alone with the man who thought that Peanut M&M’s and Barbeque Pringles would make a good meal.”

Klaus raised a hand to his chest in offense. “Ouch. You wound me. Seriously, though. Just go. I’m just going to put this shit away and then chill on the couch and keep an ear out for Little Miss ‘I Don’t Get Sick’ over there.”

Even she had to admit, she didn’t think he could really get into  _ that  _ much trouble. Besides which, he did have good intentions. He wouldn’t do anything-- not while Vanya was sick.

She shrugged. “Fine. I’ll be back then.”

She retrieved her purse from the floor by the armchair and with a last, nervous look at Klaus, exited the apartment.

* * *

**Wednesday, 10:45 pm** **  
** _ Vanya _

Vanya awoke to the sounds of chiming utensils and light chatter coming from her kitchen. She wanted to investigate, but the second she moved, a bolt of pain shot through her skull, and she fell still, groaning. 

The sounds in the kitchen stopped, and then Allison was in the doorway. 

“Vanya! How do you feel?”

She groaned again. Speaking was too much work. 

“Luther and Diego brought back some of Mom’s chicken soup. You hungry?”

“Ngh” was the only sound Vanya could muster up, and she hoped Allison would take that as the negative that it was. 

When Allison said nothing, Vanya let her eyes flutter closed again. She wasn’t sure what time it was, or how much longer she had left until she was expected at rehearsal, but she thought that a few more minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt.

How was she still so tired?

There was a slight pressure on her forehead. She opened her eyes again. 

“You’re still running a fever,” Allison told her. “Klaus picked up some Advil; will you take it?”

“Can’t,” she managed. “My meds…”

“I think we have more important things to be worrying about than your meds, Van. If we don’t get this fever to go down…”

Vanya let out yet another moan and allowed Allison to gingerly lift her into a mostly upright position. Her skin felt too sensitive, even through her shirt, without the warmth of the blanket covering her, and painful goosebumps made the hairs on the back of her arm rise. Moving hurt. Sitting up hurt even more. 

Too tired to remain upright on her own, she ended up propped up against Allison’s side. Vanya let her head rest against her sister’s shoulder, desperate to relieve the ache. 

Allison called out the door, “Can someone grab the Advil?”

Klaus entered a moment later, pills rattling in the bottle in his hands. Allison moved to take it from him, but the action disturbed Vanya’s head, and she let out a pained moan, so Allison fell still, glancing worriedly at her. Vanya just grunted and let her eyes fall closed again. 

“I got it,” Klaus said, and she heard the rattle of pills.

“Shouldn’t she take more than one?”

“Not if this is her first time taking it. One pill is the recommended dosage, and especially if you’ve never had it before…”

“Are you being responsible with drugs?”

“Just because I’m a junkie doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use drugs responsibly, Allison. Give me some credit, jeez.”

Vanya felt like she should say something, something to defend Klaus, because  _ god Allison, don’t be such a judgmental bitch, _ but her exhaustion won out, and she didn’t move until an arm wrapped around her and she opened her eyes to find Klaus pulling her up a little from the side Allison wasn’t on. He held the pill up to her mouth and she let him slip it into her mouth. Allison then held up something with a straw, and Vanya sipped, using the water to swallow the pill. 

“C’n I go ba’ t’ s’eep now?” She mumbled, and Klaus huffed a laugh. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you settled.” He started trying to move her, but she shook his hands off and just leaned over to her side, scooting down the bed so that she ended up laying over her brother’s lap.

“You good?” he asked, sounding amused. 

“Mm,” she hummed. She wasn’t. Everything hurt. But Klaus was warm and didn’t seem to mind her leeching comfort from the physical contact, and this position didn’t hurt anymore than just lying in bed had. 

Something landed on her head, and she felt Klaus start running his hand through her hair. 

“Go on, Van. Get some sleep.”

Eyes closed, she tried to relax. 

But this was  _ weird _ . Her siblings taking care of her was weird. They weren’t supposed to care. They never had before. They weren’t supposed to.

She didn’t deserve it. 

Besides, what was there to take care of? She was… fine. In pain and exhausted but fine. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t sick.

Okay, maybe she was. She never wanted to let herself be. She’d gotten sick before, she was sure, but she couldn’t… she could never let herself admit it. Because sick people got taken care of and if she couldn’t be sick if she had no one to take care of her. But now… her siblings taking care of her was weird, but it was happening, and if someone was taking care of her then she must…  _ need  _ to be taken care of, right? 

Still, she thought. Very strange, indeed.

* * *

**Thursday, 2:09 am** **  
** _ Klaus _

Diego and Luther had both said they would go home before midnight, but by 11:30, both had fallen asleep sprawled over the couch. 

Or, at least, that’s what Allison had said happened. Klaus wouldn’t have known, because Vanya had gone to sleep across his legs, and he was hesitant to move her. With how tired she’d look, and how miserably she’d sat between him and Allison when they’d given her the medicine, and how hot her head was under his hand, he was loath to even risk waking her up. 

Allison herself had fallen asleep in the lounge chair in the corner of Vanya’s room at around midnight. 

Klaus was still awake. 

The only thing keeping his hands from shaking from withdrawal was keeping them running through Vanya’s hair. He’d been doing that for hours now, and Vanya’s already greasy hair was starting to leave a residue on his fingers, and his hands were tingling from the texture of the strands, but he couldn’t stop, lest the tremors start up again.

His last hit had been over 24 hours before, and if he didn’t get another one soon, he’d be in absolutely no shape to help take care of Vanya. Dealing with Ben’s face if he left the apartment though, especially once he saw where he was going, wasn’t something he was anticipating. 

And, of course, he couldn’t exactly get up at that moment. 

Nauseated and dizzy, Klaus leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, hand still moving over his sister’s hair. Sleep was hard for him-- it always was, when he was starting a withdrawal, never mind the ghosts’ screaming-- but Vanya’s apartment was void of spirits, sans Ben, and he was tireder that he thought he’d be. 

He’d only just started drifted off when Vanya shifted and groaned quietly. His eyes flew open and he glanced down. 

A pained crease had formed between her eyebrows, and she panted in her sleep, shifted once more, and swallowed compulsively. She turned onto her back and opened her eyes, blinking blearily up at him. He moved his hand to frame her face, and smiled down at her. 

“How you doin’, Van?”

A sob escaped her lips, and she closed her eyes tightly, arms going to wrap around her waist. Tears slipped through her shut lids, and he swiped at one as it made its way past his thumb. 

“Sick,” she mumbled, and her breath hitched.

At first he was slightly relieved, because at least she was admitting it, right?

But then Ben told him to get the bucket from under the bathroom sink, and he realized that that wasn’t what she meant at all.

Before he could move, Vanya dragged herself up and was stumbling towards the bathroom with some urgency and little coordination. He stood to follow, and caught up to her too late to stop her from hitting her shoulder on the door frame, but just in time to catch her hair before it could fall into the toilet as she began to heave.

The sounds of retching were not at all pleasant, and made his own nausea worse, and so he leaned back and tried to tune her out as much as he could while maintaining his hold on her head. 

Diego appeared in the doorway behind him. 

“What’s happening?” he asked gruffly, voice still thick with sleep.

“What do you think?” Klaus managed to gasp around his own gag reflex, and thank god Diego wasn’t completely an asshole, because took Vanya’s hair from his hands and let Klaus escape the room while he took over.

It was quieter in Vanya’s room. He sat down on the bed and then let himself fall back, the world above him spinning slightly.

God, he needed a hit.

Allison sat up, woken by the sound of the bed springs groaning. 

“Klaus?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

Not that he needed to tell her that. The choking and coughing from the bathroom were echoing faintly through the bedroom. 

Allison stood and took the water bottle and washcloth from the bedside table. Grimacing, she made for the bathroom. 

“Looks like we’re in for a long night,” she mumbled under her breath as she left the room. 

Ben scoffed. “Yeah, because that’s the thing to worry about right now,” he complained. Klaus couldn’t figure out how to point out that she wasn’t quite wrong, so he just kept his mouth shut. 

He didn’t notice he’d closed his eyes until he opened them and saw Ben hovering over him, a concerned frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.

“And how are you doing right now, Klaus?”

“Peachy. Just peachy.”

“You’re starting withdrawal symptoms, aren’t you?”

“I need a hit, Ben. Like, now.”

“Is that really–”

“Are you gonna tell me that you think that this is a good time for me to be going through withdrawal? With the nausea and vomiting and the mood swings and–”

“Okay. Fair enough. But I’m still–”

“I know. But what other options do I really have?”

Ben, wisely, didn’t reply. “What are you going to take?” he questioned instead. “I didn’t think you had anything on you.”

Klaus sighed mournfully. “Unfortunately, you’re right. I’m woefully empty pocketed. I’ll think of something, mi hermano.”

Ben didn’t look like he believed him, but he nodded nonetheless. Klaus closed his eyes again. 

He’d better think of something. Fast.

He sat up and put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of a prescription pill bottle on the bedside table. 

Vanya’s pills… he’d never sunken low enough to steal them from her, his father’s voice ringing in his head, reminding him that she needed them. He’d steal a lot of things from his sister-- money, books, money… well, mainly money-- but he’d never wanted to take her pills. Now though, he wasn’t sure he’d have a choice. 

He moved quickly, before Ben would have the chance to yell at him or anyone else would have the time to get back into the room and see him. He had a pill in his mouth within three seconds, and the bottle back on the table in five. 

“Klaus,” Ben warned, but it was too late. 

“What else am I supposed to do? I don’t exactly have a lot of options here, Ben.”

The ghost fell silent, maybe because he knew that Klaus was right. Hopefully, Vanya wouldn’t miss a few pills, and hopefully, they would work to stave off the withdrawal symptoms. 

It might have been a placebo effect, but Klaus thought that it was already working. The tremors in his hands were slowing, and the nausea that had been threatening to make him lose his lunch was starting to lose its edge. 

The faint sound of retching from the bathroom stopped, and Klaus sat up and headed over to check on them. 

Vanya was leaning back, supported by Diego’s chest, and she was crying. Allison was doing her best to wipe Vanya’s face clear of the vomit and tears with a damp paper towel, but Vanya wasn’t making it easy, twisting away from the touch like it hurt. 

Diego looked helplessly up at him. Klaus had no idea how to help. 

Was it crappy or was it fun to be the useless sibling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I have thoughts I wanted to share but I am R U S H I N G so I'm just gonna pray someone comments on the stuff I love in here and leave it at that. Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope this goes well. Let me know what you think. Kudos and comments are mucho MUCHO appreciated. Thanks y'all!


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